<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Scream without raising your voice by Lastavica</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279487">Scream without raising your voice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lastavica/pseuds/Lastavica'>Lastavica</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Bedside Vigils, Best Friends, Fear, Friendship/Love, Gen, Hope, Hospitalization, Hurt, Hurt Clint Barton, Hurt/Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, Injury, Injury Recovery, One Shot, Pain, Sadness, Ship 'em if you got 'em, Strike Team Delta (Marvel), Trust, quiet moments, supporting each other</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:40:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29279487</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lastavica/pseuds/Lastavica</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint has a long road to recovery ahead of him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Clint Barton &amp; Natasha Romanov, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Scream without raising your voice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Clint became aware very gradually. The sterile smell was the first thing he recognized through the fog. Then the familiar sounds of a stay in medical entered his consciousness one by one. There were beeps and whirring, and of course Natasha's quiet breathing. He opened his eyes to find her seated beside the bed. There were a lot of wires, a lot of tubes and they were all connected to him. He could tell he was heavily medicated, but he was still in a ton of pain. He tried not to move or, more importantly, think. If he had the strength to lift his head he wouldn't. He didn't want to see the rest of him.</p><p>Natasha noticed he was awake when he turned his face toward the ceiling.</p><p>"Hey." Her tone was casual and he could hear the relief in her smile. She didn't touch him. Not yet.</p><p>"What up?" His voice betrayed his flippancy. When it came out in a sore rasp, he knew immediately that he'd been intubated at some point. ...Great.</p><p>"Do you know where you are?"</p><p>"Unfortunately."</p><p>Natasha smirked.</p><p>"How long have I been out?"</p><p>"Two days."</p><p>He didn't turn to look at her. His eyes stayed focused on the ceiling.</p><p>"Thanks for findin' me."</p><p>"You're welcome. I'm sorry it took us so long."</p><p>Clint made a face like 'ah, don't worry about it'. But his eyes were doing that thing she hadn't seen since Loki. It was subtle and it screamed that he didn't believe he could get better.</p><p>"Well," he began, still attempting to sound fine despite all indications to the contrary. "Since I remember everything, I've got a general idea of what's wrong with me."</p><p>"It's a long list." Natasha said, knowing he'd never tolerate sugar coating.</p><p>"Tell me the least bad thing."</p><p>She thought a moment. "You cracked a molar clenching your jaw."</p><p>He let out a defeated sigh punctuated by a light cough.</p><p>"I hate the dentist." ...And physical therapy and pain meds and, and, and...</p><p>"I know."</p><p>He inhaled slowly then released his breath with a shudder. The tears that had been mercifully contained finally brimmed over the corners of his eyes and rolled down into his hair. Natasha reached over and carefully dried the back of his neck with the corner of the bed sheet. Clint closed his eyes, causing remaining tears to spill out. When he opened them he turned his head on the pillow. Natasha's eyes met his.</p><p>"It's bad." His voice was barely above a whisper.</p><p>"Yeah, it's bad."</p><p>Pursing his lips, he nodded.</p><p>"You won't leave?" He asked her.</p><p>She slid her hand under his. His thumb and index finger, stiff with bandaging, touched her wrist while his other three fingers wrapped around her palm.</p><p>"I won't leave." She said.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>*Title is a lyric from the U2 song, "Running to Stand Still"</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>